The Murderer's Creed
by ThranduilBadassGreenLeafElvenK
Summary: Logan Howlett is a grizzled police detective working a particularly gruesome case. A serial murderer is killing preteens to help them avoid going through puberty-and Logan is darkly obsessed with bringing him in. Then the case takes a personal turn when the killer kidnaps Laura, Logan's eleven-year-old daughter.
1. Chapter 1

Logan Howlett was not a patient man. As he sat in his black '67 Dodge Charger with the windows rolled down; he lit up a cigar. Taking a long draw on it, he banged his fingers in a quick rhythmic pattern against the steering wheel. Good God, he hated traffic. At this rate, he'd never make to the office on time-he'd been late enough already trying to get his eleven-year-old daughter, Laura, to wake up and get going to school. Kids could be a real pain most days. Sometimes he wondered if he had made the right decision taking custody of her-surely she would have been happier living with her grandfather, Charles. Logan involuntarily chuckled at that-happier yes, but not disciplined. There was no way a nearly 90-year-old man could keep up with her. She was energetic but more than that she was mischievous. She loved to make trouble. Logan felt a smile come to his face, then again, Charles had done an excellent job with him. And he had been no angel himself in his younger days. Hell, he still liked getting trouble. Is that what his superiors all said in their reports?

Logan felt his mood souring again and so turned on some classic rock to distract himself. It wasn't working. All he could think about was how close he was to getting pulled off yet another case.

" _One more temper tantrum like the one I saw today, and that's it, you'll be turning in your badge." Scott scooted back from the desk, a smug look on his face. Logan fought the urge to snarl. It was just like Summers to enjoy ragging on a subordinate. He got a sick kick out of being in charge._

" _Yessir, you've made yourself very clear on that point." Logan fought the urge to smoke the cigar in his pocket. Summers wasn't the only one who could be cavalier about regulation._

 _Scott's jaw worked back and forth. "I don't like that tone, Howlett. I could put you on paid leave for the shit you pulled today. You should be thanking me!"_

 _Logan stiffened in the chair. Had Summers pulled strings? Was Summers lenient? Before he could catch himself he, the words tumbled out. "What's the favor you need from me?"_

 _Scott stood defensively. He placed his hands on the desk and set his jaw. "I don't need anything from you…" He pulled up and shrugged his shoulders, averting his eyes. "Yet."_

Logan didn't like being in Summers' pocket. Didn't enjoy feeling like he might owe that man anything-but facts were facts. Summers had done a favor for him, and Logan did owe him. He couldn't back out of that now. Even if Summers had a tendency to get blinded by the rule book, Logan had to admit a particular begrudging respect for the man. He was one of the youngest chiefs of the force. The man had a work ethic.

As Logan's cigar began to die, the traffic started moving. The music picked up tempo-but Logan's mood stayed dark. The latest case had been getting under his skin. It was some sick bastard murdering kids. A serial murderer of kids. Logan felt his lips turn down into a disgusted frown. Twenty years on the force hadn't prepared him for the sick shit this guy was into. The guy seemed preoccupied with stopping the children from going through pueberty. Something about wanting to perserve their innocence forever. Really twisted stuff. It made Logan's stomach turn. He was determined to bring this guy down. And it was so hard to do it while being on best behavior. But Summers seemed more determined than ever to take Logan off the case. He wasn't sure why, but he was already invested. Come hell or highwater, the bastard had to pay.


	2. Chapter 2

Summers slammed a file down on Logan's desk. Documents spilled out of the folder as it landed with a thud.

"The bastard's at it again"

Logan picked up the document with ginger fingers and took a deep breath-he wasn't sure he was ready for the pictures. He flipped to the final case on the file as Summers spoke.

"The victim's a 12-year-old Jane Doe, killed in the same ritualistic manner. Drowned in a baptismal font-the dick kindly left pictures of the whole affair-and her heart was cut outta of her chest. Done after she died because there was very little blood."

"This is some sick shit. Do we have any clues? This is what-victim four?"

Summers sat down on the corner of the desk, holding a steaming cup of coffee in his hand. He took a sip and looked tense. He sighed, shaking his head.

"I've got Hank working on a character profile. Looks to be a white male, late thirties to early forties. Educated and judging by the rituals, religious fanatic. His obsession with pre-pubescent girls would suggest pedophilia, except there has been zero sexual contact with any of the victims. His motive is still unclear. He's controlled and cool-headed. Obsessive. I wish we had more to go on, but the bastard scrubs clear the clues. He is playing games and he is playing the games well..."

Logan shuddered involuntarily. He felt his mouth turn down into a frown. He pictured Laura. Happy, smiling, safe. What would he do if something like this happened to her? How could he live? These families deserved justice. Deserved answers. _What answers?_ He thought morbidly. There were no explanations to be given. Whatever reasons the madman had, it wouldn't be the answers the family was looking for. There was no answering the why to a question like that.

"Are we any closer on figuring out who the girl was?"

"I have Hank looking through the missing persons reports-it's gonna take a while, but we will find her family Howlett. I promise."

Logan snarled in response. It was a knee-jerk reaction. Looking Summers in the eye he said, "I don't need your promises, sir. Find out for the family's sake. They deserve to know."

"I need you to visit the crime scene. Dig into the scene. Sniff out something the lower levels missed. I'm counting on you, Howlett."

The heavy smell of incense filled Logan's nostrils as he entered the beat down old shack. The outline of Jane Doe's body was marked on the floor. Logan turned to Hank.

"Never really gets any easier does it? I mean yeah, the bodies don't make you sick anymore-but it always is baffling. Impossible to understand how someone could do something so fucked up."

"Sir, if you don't mind, I'd prefer not wax philosophical about the whole ordeal. The man is sick. He does sick things. I'd really rather not understand how a human being gets so depraved. Frankly, I'd be a lot more disturbed if I did understand." Hank shook his head-"Why did Scott send us here? The scene has been cleaned, all the evidence is back at the precinct."

"Our _boss_ is expecting us to find something the other officers have missed, so have the camera ready. We have to search every corner, every nook, every cranny because he's expecting new evidence from the wonder team."

Logan separated from Hank, waving him off to the edge of the room, more to get him out of his hair than anything. Hank had a tendency to be a little bit of a nuisance. Logan had an affection for the younger officer, but it was best to avoid irritation on a mission like this. Summers was expecting Logan to pull off a miracle. The faith wasn't unearned. Logan had an uncanny ability to spot what others had missed. He'd pulled out more than one hail mary in an impossible case. Of course, Hank was right, they wouldn't find anything here. The scene had been scrubbed. He was here to keep the boss happy. The real work would begin when he studied the crime scene photos later.

The grizzled older cop kneeled down next to the body mark on the floor; there was a small blood stain on the left side of the body mark-it had worn its way into the wood. That would have been where the heart was cut clean out of the body. The dust had the distinct smell of sandalwood. It would have been pleasant under other circumstances-but not here. The sandalwood had been at the previous three crime scenes. The smell reminded Logan of Catholic mass and Saint Mary's. Saint Mary's was the Catholic school he had gone to when he was a boy-the reminder brought mixed feelings; Logan didn't like complications at the scene so he pushed the memory aside.

"Hank! Make a note-same brand of sandalwood incense has been used here."

"How do you know, sir?"

"See the dust? The smoke bound together with the cobwebs and dirt in the place-created a similar ash effect as the other three crime scenes."

"Surely the other officers noticed that."

"They may have, but I doubt they noted it. If we can figure out the brand, we may be able to track down our killer."

"Even Hot Topic sells incense, sir."

"Yeah, but this is high brand. Probably blessed based on your killer profile. How many places sell holy incense?"

"He could've bought it online."

"Just make a note. It could be important. And an online store means a paper trail. He'd have to have some kind of credit or debit card."

"What if he paid in coin?"

"We can look into it but I doubt it. I can't imagine many priests and nuns are up to date on the business of coin."

"That's why you are my boss, sir. I've marked it down."


End file.
